Wind and Water
by Merlin Missy
Summary: Consequences 7.  The time has come for Puck to return home and seek justice for his lost brother.
1. Chapter 1

VVVVV  
Consequences Part Seven: Wind and Water (1/3)  
a Gargoyles story  
by Merlin Missy  
Copyright 2005  
PG-13  
VVVVV

Disney and Buena Vista Television own the characters, situations, and such.  
Seventh, and by Oberon _last_, story in the "Consequences" series.  
Follows "Found and Lost" and will make zero sense without having read the  
rest of the series. Rowan is the property of Tara O'Shea and appears in this  
story by permission.

Thanks to Constance for the beta work and to Kimberly T for getting me  
to finish it.

VVVVV

"Vocate venti fortunate! Ex rege Oberonis! Et hic navis fluctum regate! Ad  
orae Avalonis!"

The Puck's voice rolled out over the waters like thunder, as a thick haze  
enveloped them. Fox kept her eyes on the shore, on David, until the mists had  
swallowed him as well. When she could no longer see him, she turned back  
towards the prow. Puck had crossed his arms and was resting his chin against  
them, staring off into the fog.

"I thought you did all your spells in English."

She hadn't spoken it loudly, and after a short silence, thought perhaps he  
hadn't heard her, or was ignoring her.

"Magic is a strange thing," he said, his eyes never moving from whatever  
misty spot they'd found. "Spells designed for mortals are in mortal tongues.  
Latin, Hindi, Yiddish, whatever language the mortals may write down, there  
is the language of the spell. Our magic is different. The language we cast our  
spells in cannot even be heard by mortals, much less spoken. The words  
translate themselves into words the listeners might understand. When I teach  
Alexander a new spell, he hears it in the True Language. Everyone else hears  
it as they would expect. If you wanted to, you probably could make yourself  
hear it in the True Language as well."

He grew quiet again, and she realized he'd just given her part of a lesson. If  
this didn't work, she might have to be the one to teach it to her son.

She had no idea how long the trip would take. She knew Elisa and the rest  
had been gone for months, but that they'd stopped in many ports of call on  
their way home. She knew the time difference between the World and Avalon  
to be twenty-four to one. She didn't know the distance to Avalon through the  
mists, and she didn't know what kind of reception to expect, and she didn't  
know how they would be getting back, other than Puck's intimation that her  
mother would probably let them use her mirror. If not, they could be gone for  
months, or years.

_Not exactly my original plan when I signed up for this trip._

Tales from her childhood returned to her, stories of little girls gone to spend  
an afternoon in the fairy land, coming home only to find their families grown  
old. She tried to remember, had her mother ever told her one of those stories,  
or had it been one of the endless succession of nannies and babysitters she'd  
driven mad?

Another memory came back to her. She'd been all of five or six, home from  
school with an earache. Her mother had stayed home from the lab, and they'd  
sat on the old rocking chair, once the property of her father's grandmother,  
wrapped in a long quilt. Her mother had held her the entire day, just rocking  
back and forth, singing to her, telling her stories, playing long sessions of  
"Itsy Bitsy Spider." There had been other times, when the three of them had  
gone to the park, or to the zoo. She even remembered with fondness, now, the  
first and only time her father had taken the two of them fishing. The day in  
the rocking chair, though, was special to her. It was her only real memory of  
cuddling with her mother, even if most of that time had been spent crying, her  
head buried in the woman's sweet-smelling hair.

She'd been gone from Alex an hour, but already she missed him terribly.

"There it is," Puck said. Fox looked up. The fog still choked her sight, but  
now she could see the faint outline of a torch, flaring high above them. A cliff  
appeared below it, and then a beach. She could see figures on the sand, could  
not make out their faces.

She moved to the front of the small craft, careful not to capsize it. Here she  
still couldn't discern the beings on the sand, but she _could_ see Puck's  
face. She could have seen it in the darkest room. His eyes were filled with  
light, the rest of his expression pure awe. He hadn't seen the shores of Avalon  
in ten centuries; his joy upon seeing it again was heartbreaking in its intensity.

She'd never realized how homesick he must have been.

"We're home," he breathed. "We're really home." She chose not to correct  
him.

The mists cleared, letting her see those who greeted them. Her first reaction  
was to step backwards in the boat quickly. _That's a big goddamned  
spider._ The rest appeared to be at least human-shaped. She changed that  
conclusion when one of the "humans" turned out to be a monkey, and a shape  
she'd taken to be a rock became a large rabbit by better light.

The other two appeared to be human males, one with long, dark hair pulled  
back into a ponytail, the other looking like a James Dean wannabe.  
"Please say these are your friends."

He turned to her, the joy in his eyes only intensified by the sight of the others.  
"Oh, yes."

The boat moved to the shore. He floated out, pulled it in with barely a tug.  
As Fox stepped into the water and immediately felt her boots squelch, she saw  
Puck approach the group, then kneel down. With some disquiet, she watched  
him grab big handfuls of sand and throw them over his head like a little kid.  
The others looked on, amused.

"Welcome home, Cousin," said the James Dean ripoff, offering a hand to  
Puck. The smaller fay disregarded it, springing upwards instead, magical  
energy crackling off his body.

Fox stepped ashore. Suddenly, the mists were gone as though they'd never  
been. The sun sat low on the horizon, casting yellow brilliance everywhere.

_Weird._

An itching started in her shoulder blades, and she twisted and twitched, try to  
make it stop. Had something gotten into her shirt? It was familiar, but ...

Magic. The same kind of energy which had flowed through her once in her  
son's defense skittered through her body. She hadn't a clue how to tap it, but  
the mere intensity of presence made her antsy. And more.

A change went through the small assembly. The quasi-humans and the  
monkey bowed. The rabbit nodded its head. The spider moved two of its legs  
to dip its torso. She backed off, startled.

"Lady," said the long-haired male. "We greet thee."

"Um, Puck?" This was weirding her out, fast.

He settled down to the ground, a grin on his face. "You're the Queen's  
daughter. It seems she's ordered the rest of these reprobates to be nice to  
you." To his friends he said, "Get up, gang. She's one of us. Fox, these are  
the main Tricksters, trouble-makers, and otherwise raisers of various hells  
among the fay. You'll like them." He indicated each one, and with each name  
there was a bow. "Anansi, Coyote, Raven, Hanuman, and Hare."

"Also known as the Tricksters 130," said the one called Coyote. "We  
unionized."

He looked at them askance. "You formed a union." Vigorous nods. He  
laughed, full-bellied. "Gods, I missed you people."

"And we you, Cousin," said the one called Raven.

Puck stopped his laughter. "Indeed." He looked to either side of the  
assembly, then zipped off behind a boulder, then a tree. "All right, where is  
she hiding?"

Raven folded his arms. "She didn't come."

"What do you mean she ... " He settled to the ground again, staring at Raven.  
"She didn't come."

And this 'she' would be ... ? From the expression on his face, someone  
important. "I see." In an instant, he changed. For a moment, he had been the  
Puck again, but with the absence of whomever he'd been expecting, he  
returned to the same person he'd been these past weeks and months. The  
suddenness of the transformation was a blow.

Burning with curiosity but mindful of their reason for coming, Fox asked  
instead, "Shouldn't we get to the palace? The sun's about to set."

The monkey said in a distinctly Indian accent, "Lady, my apologies, but the  
sun has just risen."

"Risen?" The monkey and the rabbit nodded solemnly.

Puck swore. "I knew I should have questioned Angela more thoroughly.  
We're going to have to wait until sunset."

"That'll be twelve days in the outside world." And that was before the fun  
started. Damn. Damn. Damn. "We'll go back and wait there."

Noise surrounded them. Fox put her hands to her ears, trying to stopper it out,  
while it drilled through her skull. _What the hell!_

There was a bright, shimmering flash in their midst, which faded to three  
green flashes, and then to three forms. David had spoken of the Three Sisters  
to her back when Demona had turned the human residents of Manhattan to  
stone, so their identical appearances did not startle her as badly as they might  
have. Neither did the cold, dead blue of their eyes dig into her as much as it  
might have had she not been prepared.

What did unnerve her was far more basic. She knew of the Three Weird  
Sisters in the abstract, from the play, from the reports, from Owen. But here  
they were now, standing before her, and she was a little bit afraid not because  
they were the Weird Sisters, but because they were _her_ weird sisters.  
What would be appropriate for the situation? When it came to having filled  
her in on What To Do At Court, Puck had neglected to mention meeting their  
siblings.

"Um ... Hi."

They ignored her.

"You," said the blonde, pointing to Puck.

"You dare to show your face here?" said the brunette.

"You were banished," said the white-haired one. "Oberon is not pleased."

"He generously allowed you to live."

"He will not be so generous when he sees this defiance."

"You should not have come."

"One day," said Puck conversationally, floating to eye level with them, "I'm  
going to tape your mouths shut and see which one is actually doing the  
talking." He zipped out of reach as the blonde tried to swat him. "Fox, meet  
your charming sisters: Monica, Rachel and Phoebe."

Fox had never heard a spider chuckle before and found it a mite disturbing.

The Three were unamused. "You have played your last prank, Puck."

"Oberon's anger is not easily abated."

"Coming back to Avalon will only serve to enflame it."

Puck did a remarkable impression of his alter-ego: "Painful inflammation?  
Try Preparation H!"

The hare guffawed. Coyote hooted. Fox snickered, remembering finding  
David in the television room once watching the Three Stooges.

She grinned evilly. "I know three guys you'd just love. They're named Larry,  
Moe and Curly. If you want a date, I can set you up."

That sent the Three into scowls and the rest to howls of laughter. Puck bowed  
his head at her.  
"We're keeping this one," said Coyote, and slapped her on the back.

The brunette folded her arms, while the other two spread theirs straight and  
down. For the first time, they addressed her.

"Little one, do not vex us."

"The Queen has placed her protection on you and your child."

"We are bound to grant you safe passage to the palace."

"There will come a time when Oberon steps down from his throne."

"We will be there to claim it when he does."

"And then we will be the Queens."

They said together: "Pray that you will be long dead."

"No, dears," she said. "_You_ pray that I'll be dead."

"As much as we'd love to finish this delightful conversation," said Puck, "we  
really should be getting back to Manhattan. We'll be back at sunset."

He turned away from them towards the boat. The white-haired one stretched  
out a lazy finger. He stopped in midair, struggling against some unseen force.

"You came back."

"You will stay."

"Oberon bids you come to the palace."

"Now," they barked together.

"Fine," he said, "fine. But we'll need to have the gargoyles present."

"You will need whatever Oberon says you need."

"He says you need to return to the palace."

"We doubt he will say you will need to live until sunset."

He what? She looked for confirmation. Puck's crestfallen face gave it to her.  
This wasn't a surprise. So he hadn't been completely honest with them.  
His voice subdued, Puck said, "Let me down, unless you're planning on  
carrying me to the palace yourselves." The finger, and the Puck, were  
lowered. "Thank you."

"Move."

He shrugged, and gestured to Fox. "Come, then. It seems we're to put on a  
command performance." He glanced at the others, who had sobered  
considerably in the past three minutes. "I appreciate your being here, but ... "

" ... but you would appreciate it even more if we came with you," said Raven.  
"Then let's go!"

The group settled to either side of them, ignoring the Sisters altogether as they  
formed a very impromptu honor guard. With a nod from Raven, they set off  
into the woods. Fox spared a look for the Sisters, who fumed quietly as they  
floated behind the band, then she caught up with Puck, tugging him down to  
walk with her rather than fly.

"Cousin," said the monkey as they walked, "you live with the ones Avalon  
sent, yes?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I have heard from the rest of our cousins that the heroes are returning to the  
World. Anansi helped form Fara Maku and Tea. Coyote reclaimed his Peter,  
Raven his Natsilane. Even the Bean Sidhe saw the return of Cu Chulainn. I  
wondered if perhaps you had heard rumor of the return of my brother Bhima,  
and his wife and brothers?"

"None, I'm afraid." The monkey closed his eyes. Puck patted him on the  
shoulder. "Don't let it worry you, Cousin. Avalon has sent many travelers  
into the World. You don't think Goliath, Elisa and Angela were the only ones  
to help Avalon help restore the heroes, do you?"

"You are probably right. Still, it would do my heart good to see the Pandavas,  
take the hand of the doe-eyed Draupadi, and embrace Bhima once more."

"You shall," said Puck.

"You believe so."

"Yes," he said, "I do. He is your brother." He looked at Fox, the conviction  
returned to his eyes.

She dropped her gaze to watch her step. No use getting a broken ankle on the  
way to their funeral. But she smiled in Puck's direction just the same.

They passed a group of trees, and suddenly, it was in view.

Since she'd learned of her mother's true nature, she often imagined what the  
castle of the Fairy King and Queen might be like. The sight before her, while  
certainly not disappointing, wasn't quite what she'd imagined, either.

_My castle is prettier,_ she thought with amused pride.

As they neared the palace, she could see faces from every parapet and  
window, as well as creatures gathered to either side. Another glance proved  
many of the watchers to be stone. So it was daybreak. Perfect.

The rest of the watchers ...

Fox saw beings from every corner of her imagination: unicorns, pegasi,  
snakes, demons, angels, and dozens of almost-human creatures of all sizes,  
perhaps the more horrible for their nearness to her own form.

They peeked and spied, or watched outright, in silence as the Tricksters, the  
Sisters, and the human made their way up the slope. Their eyes gave her the  
creeps. Flat and dead, many of the gazes were, and in the rest, something  
more familiar, again more terrifying for that familiarity.

Hunger.

They watched with eager anticipation, waiting for the sport to come. She  
could read it on each face, that boredom so desperate that even the sure death  
of one of their own would provide distraction. They would rip the soul from  
him themselves if it meant a change in routine.

_Animals,_ she thought, and then regretted it. Insight hit her, with it  
recognition, and not a little fear. These guys really were her kind, weren't  
they? Hadn't she and the rest of the Pack, back when they'd _been_ a  
Pack, tasted this same kind of sensual anticipation, the lust for blood burning  
in them, their eyes just as dead at the sight of Goliath and Lexington, fallen  
and waiting for the kill?

Fox shuddered.

"Welcome home," said Puck, quietly, observing her the same way he had  
when they'd first met and his name had been Owen.

"Home," she repeated. This was her family. Had the Gathering been a few  
years earlier, she might have been called with them. They were just like her.

Which meant she could understand them.

Which meant she could manipulate them.

Fox grinned.

They made a sharp turn as they approached the palace, guided by the Sisters  
now. Fox felt her feet moving in the direction they wanted her to go, and  
knew it was they who bade her do so. The Tricksters stopped, obviously not  
under the same spell.

"Where are you taking us?" demanded Puck.

"To your quarters. Oberon will summon you when he is ready."

"We would see him now," he demanded, trying to float. His feet dangled  
below him foolishly.

"He would not see you now."

"Do not test his anger further, Puck." The brunette spat his name.

The rest of the Tricksters fell behind them as they entered the palace. Fox  
wasn't sure if they were forbidden to go where the Three were leading her and  
Puck, or if they had their own plots and plans to worry about now.

Puck spared them one glance as his friends turned down another corridor.  
The Sisters ignored them completely.

They stopped in front of a closed door. The blonde opened it with a flick of  
magic, making Fox wonder if anyone around here did anything without it.  
She pushed Puck in with a gesture; he collapsed in onto his knees.

He pulled himself up and launched towards the door, anger radiating from his  
pores. He hit the doorway and bounced back into the room.

"You will stay here," said the white-haired one, and tugged an invisible cord  
around Fox's feet. She had no choice but to follow.

The room next door was hers. They didn't push her inside, either forcibly or  
magically, but she was compelled to cross the threshold. "The Queen will  
come to see you shortly."

They vanished.

So much for their triumphant entry.

Fox looked around the room. She had to admit, for what could be her cell for  
an indeterminate period, it was pretty nifty. The draped and richly-dressed  
bed took up most of one wall. The opposite wall held a huge fireplace with  
three large logs that she would bet never burned out, and polished brass  
implements to stoke it further. Three oversized chairs graced the near corner,  
to be pulled near it for warmth or away for privacy. The floor was covered in  
a carpet whose softness she could feel through her boots. Near the window,  
which appeared to have a balcony just beyond, she saw a mirror and stand,  
covered in gold so bright it glowed, and a porcelain basin.

A nook in the corner turned out to be another corner hiding a private bath.  
She recalled the early floor designs for Wyvern, and asking what a garderobe  
was. Fox didn't see one, or anything like one, attached to her room. This  
could be a problem later on in the day. She ignored it for now.

Everything smelled of lavender.

Fox sighed, and sat down in an overstuffed chair, tried to think. Puck was  
next door, no doubt ready to burst. She should try to reach him, if just by  
talking through the wall. _Let's see._

She recalled that awful women's prison movie. It had been her second part,  
her first big break. It had sucked donkey balls so badly it wasn't even rerun  
on the indy stations. She remembered a scene where the prisoners  
communicated their escape plans by tapping on the pipes. Considering the  
lack of toilets, the fairy castle would probably not have indoor plumbing, but  
tapping on the wall would might work as well.

She picked up a large hairbrush from the basin stand, absently noticed the fine  
work on the silver handle and back. _Perfect._ She crawled onto the  
bed, moved against the common wall she shared with Puck, and drew her arm  
back.

And stopped as she heard voices from the other room.

Feeling a little embarrassed, she inched closer to hear.

"How could you even _think_ of coming back!" The other person was  
female, and quite angry. It wasn't her mother. It didn't sound like the Sisters.  
The mysterious absent "She" from the beach?

"I had to come."

"No, you didn't! You would have been fine. He would have left you alone!  
He might have even forgiven you." Her voice dropped, and Fox could barely  
hear her as she said, "He'll kill you."

"I know."

"Then why did you come back, you idiot?" Her tone belied her words. Even  
through the stone, Fox could hear the tears in her voice.

"To see you."

"You might lie well to the rest, but you don't do it to me."

"You find it impossible I would be tempted to return merely on the basis of  
your charms? Here I thought your ego much bigger than that."

"Hah. Your self-preservation instinct is twice the size of my ego. Why did  
you come back, Puck?"

"Because I hear crying in my sleep from a child long dead."

"Clarice Starling you aren't."

She heard him chuckle. "No, and you no Hannibal Lecter, either." There was  
a pause. "I need to do this."

"No, you don't," she pleaded with him. "Leave this island. I'll help you go.  
He won't follow you to the World. I'd go with you if I could. Please!"

A longer pause, ended by a sound she recognized as the finish of a kiss. "It's  
good to know you care."

"I've always cared. Please don't do this. It's bad enough being separated from  
you. If you should die ... "

" ... you would find another madman to bewitch and you would name your  
firstborn after me, gods help the poor girl."

"You're impossible."

"And you love me for it."

There was no more conversation. Fox moved away from the wall, sat on the  
edge of her bed. She was certain the female voice was the same woman Puck  
had asked Raven about. Woman, hell, she might be a six-legged horse for all  
Fox knew. And did it matter? Her friend was in love with her, or at least in  
agreeable lust from the sounds she could still hear through the wall  
He knew he was going to die. Dammit, he'd lied to her and to David, and  
there was nothing she could do to stop it.

No. She could plan.

Fox curled her legs under her, and began considering her options.

VVVVV

"Fox?" Her mother stood beside the bed. She sat up from where she had been  
lying and rubbed her eyes. Damn. She'd fallen asleep.

"Mom. Shouldn't you be green?"

The woman she'd known as Anastasia Renard smiled and sat beside her on the  
bed. "I thought you'd be more comfortable with me like this."

"Whatever." Sleep let loose its last hold on her. The light levels in the room  
had changed. _Is it afternoon already?_ She couldn't believe it. Her  
first day in the fairyland, and she'd slept through half of it. "Why weren't we  
summoned earlier?"

"The Puck told me you needed the gargoyles. I asked Oberon to wait until  
sunset to call you both to the main hall. It's just as well. He's as likely to kill  
the Puck as listen to him right now. By sunset, he may well have cooled  
down enough to listen."

"Owen told us there would be no problem, that Oberon would let him come  
back for this and let him leave again, as long as I was with him."

"He knew better than that. Banishment is a very specific matter. It remains to  
be seen whether Oberon will allow him to live long enough to hear him out."

_Dammit, Owen._ Fox sighed. "Did he tell you why we're here?"

"He didn't have to."

Fox sat back, staring at her mother. "You know?"

"I knew from the day Katharine told me how they'd come to the Island. And  
the Puck confirmed the truth when I visited you last year."

She stood up, the anger she'd thought she'd lost back full upon her. "You  
_knew_ and you didn't say anything! You could have told Oberon  
yourself, let him deal with the Three Bitches. Damn it, Mother, why didn't  
you do something! Is it because Owen and Ian aren't yours? Do you hate  
them that much?"

Her mother remained sitting. "Hate them? Child, had I known, I would have  
died for Ian."

"Bullshit. You were the one who wanted Ian sent away in the first place. And  
when Puck was a baby, you threatened to kill him!"

"Is that what he told you?" Her demeanor remained mild, nonconfrontational.  
Fox stopped in puzzlement.

"I believe him," she said slowly. "You tried to take my baby from me. As far  
as I'm concerned, you are capable of anything."

"You don't understand."

"You've got that right."

"What has Puck told you about his childhood?"

"Not much. Enough. Oberon kept him as his servant because you wouldn't  
let him treat him as his son."

A smile played at her mouth. "That wasn't _quite_ how things happened.  
Oberon spoiled our daughters terribly as children, despite what I would have  
had, flaunting before all that if I would not bear the child he wanted, he would  
make certain our heirs were unfit to rule after him. He did the same to the  
Puck, again to mock me. He used the children, and I let him use them.  
Despite that, the Puck turned out surprisingly well. I have never told him this,  
but many times since Oberon first brought him home, I've wished things  
might have been different, that the boy might have been my son, too."

Fox had spent her childhood learning to read her parents' faces, to gauge what  
she could and couldn't get past them at any particular time. Now that she  
knew what her mother was, she had to wonder if she'd ever really seen the  
truth, but her mother's face radiated only honesty.

"You should tell Puck that. It would mean a lot to him."

A smile, weak, and a little sad. "You still don't understand. You were raised  
in the World. You know a kind of freedom none of us here may ever know,  
though we live three hundred times as long and are heir to powers you can't  
imagine. We are bound by cords you cannot see, and thus we cannot always  
act as we wish."

This seemed pretty damned stupid to Fox. "Why not? And don't give me that  
'You're just a mortal and couldn't understand' crap again."

"I won't. Fox," she took her hand, "did Puck tell you anything about your  
grandmother?"

"She was the Queen before Oberon. He took the throne from her."

"No. She left it. He tried to seize power, and she kept him at a stalemate.  
The stalemate caused horrible repercussions in the World, and eventually, she  
gave in so as not to hurt it anymore. She was angry with him, and with me for  
not helping her against him. She cursed us both, as well as the child I carried,  
who became your sisters. The events unfolding around us now are the result  
of our folly all those years past."

"So because Oberon defied your mother, both of his sons have to die?" No.  
She refused to buy it. _There has to be a way out._

Her mother dropped her eyes. "That is how he has chosen to interpret it, yes."

"But you haven't. Tell me you've found a way around whatever curse it is.  
Please, Mom!" She was begging, hated herself for it, but her mother's mercy  
was Puck's best chance. "Please don't let him die."

"I will do what I can," she said. "But do not ask me to do more than that. I  
am as bound as the rest." She met her eyes again; in their depths, Fox saw  
magics bubbling. "If I interfere in Oberon's dealings with his son, he will take  
it to mean he has the right to interfere with you and Alexander. I will  
_not_ allow that to occur."

Fox remembered the flicker of magic through her veins, the sound of stone  
shattering, the sight of her stepfather being blown through the far wall of the  
nursery. "I can deal with him."

Her mother watched her eyes, then threw back her head and laughed at what  
she'd found there. "Perhaps you can at that." She stood. "Come, child. I will  
show you my home. If tonight does not go well, it will probably be your only  
visit here. You should see what you can."

Fox nodded. Maybe she could get a feel for the place, work on finding a way  
out of this mess. She owed Owen.

"Lead the way."

VVVVV


	2. Chapter 2

VVVVV  
Consequences Part Seven: Wind and Water (2/3)  
a Gargoyles story  
by Merlin Missy  
Copyright 2005  
PG-13  
VVVVV

They stayed within the palace proper, her mother pointing out rooms, towers,  
artwork, things for which Fox had no name, and giving a richly detailed story  
linking each one. She wasn't really paying attention to the decorations  
anyway; each turn seemed to fall in upon itself, and it was all she could do to  
remember which way they'd come. Then she'd turn around and find the  
passage behind her went in a completely different direction then she swore  
they'd just come.

The other fay had disappeared, though just to the side of each corner she  
thought she spotted eyes following the two of them. In spite of herself, Fox  
stayed close against her mother as she had when she was young.

Outside, she saw the young gargoyles sleeping on the walls of the palace,  
keeping silent watch over a domain that needed no protection. Even in this  
place of safety, snarls and roars were frozen on their faces, daring any to  
attack while they were on duty. Not for the first time, though she would never  
admit it out loud, Fox felt a great deal of respect for the creatures.

"Where is everyone?" she asked suddenly.

Her mother stopped her narrative and asked innocently, "Everyone?"

Now Fox knew something was up.

"Everyone. As in all the others. I haven't seen anyone but you since we left  
the room. Except for ... " She shook her head, trying to figure out  
_what_ she'd seen lurking in the shadows.

"Schleppel." Fox stared blankly. Her mother continued, "You saw Schleppel.  
He's a bogeyman." Mom's voice lowered. "Don't let on you saw him; he's  
very self-conscious."

"Okay. That doesn't answer my question. Where's everyone else?"

"They're holding session."

"You mean, the Court?"

"Yes." Her mother looked completely unconcerned.

Fox took a deep breath. Owen had told her time and again how patience was  
considered the highest virtue of their kind. He'd also mentioned it was  
practically their only virtue, and one Oberon had never quite grasped. Used  
properly, he'd said it could be an advantage in dealing with the King and  
Queen. She therefore managed to ask in a calm tone, "What are they meeting  
_about_?"

"Oberon is holding open session to determine what is to be done with the  
Puck."

"But we should be there! Oberon has to hear what we've got to say." She  
turned, intending to rush to Puck's room, but was prevented from moving by  
her mother's invisible touch.

"I know that."

"Then why aren't you there? You could ... You could ... " She stopped.  
"You can't do anything, can you?"

"I can influence him, if he allows me. You might not believe this, but I've  
been working on the Puck's behalf since I returned from the World. I believe  
Oberon will allow him to speak."

"Then what's the open session about?"

"It will give the other Children an opportunity to voice their opinions without  
risk of censure. I have already spoken with many of them in private. The  
Tricksters will stand by him, save for Loki. He, Thor, and Odin would rather  
Puck be sent back to the World without any further dealings. The Guides are  
staying neutral in the matter."

"What about the Three Weirdos?"

The Queen's eyes sparkled. "Your sisters will certainly oppose his being  
allowed to speak, and have already called for an immediate execution."

_There's that "death" thing again._ "Will they talk him into it?"

"Perhaps. Oberon is still angry with him. However, the other Children, and  
his own perverse sense of humor, might be enough to convince him to allow  
Puck live at least long enough to speak his case."

"And if they're not? If he decides to kill his son?"

"Then you will be the last one to know the full story of what became of  
Oberon's younger son, and you will have to speak the words instead."

"Then he has to live." She saw a stone bench, and sat down on it, hands  
clasped, staring at the ground. "I can't do it by myself. I don't know enough  
about these people. I don't know what to say to convince them." She looked  
up at her mother. "You were the one who didn't want me to go to law school."

"You would have made a wretched lawyer. Besides, it wouldn't have helped.  
The Fairy Court is unlike the mortal one, save in one respect. The law is the  
law, which is to say Oberon's word cannot be revoked once it has been  
spoken, even by him."

Her heart twisted. "So the banishment really is permanent." Somehow, she  
had always assumed it was a temporary thing, maybe for a few hundred years  
until Oberon cooled off, but certainly not _forever_. That "eternally"  
had meant "Eternally" had not sunk into her before, and once again she was  
awed, and a little humbled, at what Puck had given up for her and David's  
happiness.

"There is an old saying among magic users. The law that cannot be broken  
may surely be bent. Should Oberon find it in himself to forgive the Puck, he  
would find a way around his own curse. He is, after all, the King of the  
Tricksters."

Fox thought out loud, but quietly. "Puck said one of Oberon's decrees was  
that no fairy should kill another. Because there was a war."

"Yes. Circe had seen visions of an uprising, a champion who would tear  
Oberon from his throne and create a new order. I was also granted a sign. In  
the great forest, I saw a tree, older than time, struck by lightning from a  
cloudless sky. Half burned to the ground, but the other half survived and put  
forth new fruit in the Spring. There were a few among us who chose this to  
mean Oberon's rule was ended. They took two mortal bloodlines they knew  
well, and from them crafted a hero to lead their army.

"It was futile, of course. Only handful of fay were in the rebellion, for they  
could not convince any others to join their crusade. There was a battle, which  
did not last long. The mortals among them died quickly, including their hero.  
The only casualty among our kind was Baldur, who had fought for Oberon's  
cause. My Lord was angered by the rebellion, and more so by the death of  
Baldur, of whom he was passing fond. Never mind that Hodur, Baldur's own  
brother, struck him down accidentally. He decreed that none of Oberon's  
Children should kill another on pain of their own death. Hodur was executed  
in front of the Court. The others were stripped of their powers and banished  
to the World forever. And that was the end of the war."

"What happened to the others? Were they ever reinstated? If we can  
establish a precedent, we might just have a chance."

"No. Narcissa is the only one who still lives, and she went quite mad after the  
deaths of her friends."

_Damn._ "But we can get the Weirdos on the killing of their own kind."

Her mother sat down beside her, placed her hand on Fox's. It was cool, she  
noticed, and soft. "Can you?" She stood. "We should gather the Puck now.  
Day is ending."

Fox stood and stretched, and her stomach gurgled at her. "I know this is a  
lousy time to ask, but is there anything to eat around here?"

Her mother smiled. "Whatever you'd like, child."

Fox was growing more and more confused about the layout of the palace.  
They turned a corner which she'd thought would lead them back through a  
room of sculptures, and instead revealed a huge kitchen, filled with steaming  
pans, oversized cauldrons with bubbling fluids within them, and two great  
ovens from which emanated the distinct aroma of fresh bread. Her mouth  
watered.

"Have the cooks gone to Court?"

"Cooks?" As she watched, a large wooden spoon levitated from a marble  
counter, stuck itself in one of the cauldrons, and stirred until the bubbling  
went down. Porcelain dishes poked their way out of the cabinets and lined up,  
as a silver ladle began filling a large ceramic tureen from another pot. It was  
part "Beauty and the Beast," part "Fantasia," and it made Fox both delighted  
and nervous.

"No wonder you can't cook," she said quietly. Her mother laughed, and  
opened a door. A well-stocked pantry greeted them, though Fox suspected no  
one had ever done the actual stocking. Her mother selected a few pieces of  
fruit, some bread and cheese, and a small, cooked bird of some type. She  
closed the door, handed the food to Fox, then opened the door again.

Instead of a pantry, there was now a passageway. Her mother walked in, and  
Fox followed, slowly, watching the walls to see if the food had just been  
hidden away somewhere.

_Nope._

Another turn led them to a familiar place, the hallway where her sisters had  
force-marched them before. Her mother tapped on Puck's door, then opened it  
and walked inside. Fox ducked in behind her quickly, in case the door should  
shut and suddenly become a hallway leading somewhere else.

Puck was sitting cross-legged on a large heap of silk and fur and linen. When  
they entered, he zipped up, then bowed deeply before her mother.

"My Queen. You do me honor."

"It is good to see you again, Puck, although I wish it had been in New York  
instead."

He settled to a standing position on the ground. "I had to come. You know  
that."

"We all know." A great sadness filled her face and was gone. "Oberon will  
call for you soon. In the meantime, you should eat." She spread her arm, and  
a clean white cloth appeared on the floor. Fox set the food down, and then sat  
down herself.

_A picnic,_ she thought. _We're having a damn picnic._

"For a last supper," Puck said, grabbing a leg of poultry and a torn hunk of  
bread, "this doesn't look too bad. Any wine?"

"Plum or strawberry?"

"Strawberry." Her mother pulled a flask from the air, and three goblets. She  
poured a generous amount for each of them. It tasted of strawberries, true, but  
the best and sweetest of a season rich with rain and sun. Before she was  
aware of it, she'd drained her glass. She saw the other two watching her with  
kind amusement.

"Careful with that stuff, Fox," said Puck. "It goes down smooth, but it's got a  
hell of a kick if you're not used to it."

"I've been drinking since I was sixteen. I can handle a _little_ wine."

"I didn't need to know that," her mother said mildly.

The meal was quiet. They made small talk about Alexander and David, and  
Fox told her mother about their failure at curing the Mutates.

"That's a pity. In a way, I'm as responsible as you are. I did encourage Anton  
more than I should have. I don't think your father was ever aware of some of  
the more extreme projects Anton spearheaded when he worked for us. I  
presume you and David gave him even more leeway."

"Oooooh yeah," said Puck.

"Now that child will spend the rest of his life cursed, because of our mistake,"  
her mother continued.

"I don't get it. You guys can do anything. Why can't you just zap them back  
to normal and be done?" She looked at Puck. "I don't buy the 'Alex isn't old  
enough' line. You had him doing soul transference at three months."

Mom said, "Fox, do you remember when we lived in the brownstone? You  
were four years old, and a bird built a nest right outside your window. You  
brought me one of the eggs."

"I remember. You made me put it back, because it belonged with the others,  
not with me."

"Yes. Do you remember what happened afterwards?"

"The mother abandoned the nest. Because I'd touched it." She recalled seeing  
the little blue eggs sitting for days. She'd brought them inside when she'd  
realized their mother wasn't coming back, and tried to keep them warm by  
wrapping them with tissues. After a while, she'd understood they weren't  
going to hatch, that the baby birdies inside them were already dead. She'd  
kept them anyway, inside her dollhouse, until one of the maids had thrown  
them out.

"Do you understand why neither of us can just 'zap them back to normal?'"

"No. Those were birds. These are people, and they're suffering, and you can  
do something about it and you won't. It's completely different." She grabbed  
an orange and began worrying at the peel with her nails.

"It is not. Fox, you've lived a very full life, but because you were our  
daughter, you got away with many things you really oughtn't have. I hold  
myself responsible. I should have been stricter when you were small.  
Instead, I, and your father too, preferred to sweep things over for you. The  
pets, the problems at school, even the first time you were arrested, we stepped  
in and fixed it for you."

"The first time?" asked Puck, muffled by a large piece of cheese in his mouth.  
"What did you do?"

"I stole a pair of sunglasses. Right in front of the store cop. That was  
_dumb_."

He made a noise. "You think?"

"Halcyon asked to have the charges dropped, and because he was who he was,  
they were, after he paid for the sunglasses. We talked about making you  
apologize to the store manager, but neither of us wanted to be the one to order  
you, so we didn't. It was pushed under the rug and forgotten, and you never  
had to answer for it, or anything else. Dear one, you must learn to accept the  
consequences of your own actions, or you will learn nothing at all. Do you  
understand now?"

Her chest was constricted. Her mother's voice had been gentle, not  
reprimanding, and because it had been so kind it hurt worse than if she'd  
shouted. Everything Fox was, and everything she'd done with her life meant  
nothing. Her mother saw her as an irresponsible child, and that was that.

She'd screwed up and David had screwed up, and they had to clean up their  
own messes.

"I understand."

Her mother turned to Puck. "And you, my sweet Puck, do you understand?"

"Yes, Lady."

Now Fox was confused. What had ...

_Oh._

She wasn't the only one who needed to face responsibility. Puck had made  
mistakes of his own, and whatever her feelings on the matter, he would not  
find help from the Queen to resolve them. If she did help him, even with the  
best of intentions, they would stand to lose it all.

Her heart heavy, Fox finished the orange, and prepared herself for defeat.

VVVVV

Her mother left them fifteen minutes later, if time had any meaning in this  
place. Fox remained with Puck, sitting on the floor. He made her recite the  
story once to his satisfaction. When she finished, he nodded slowly,  
acknowledging that should the need arise, she could at least present the case,  
if not argue it, and then they were quiet again for a while.

Funny. When she'd first met her father's young assistant, Owen had seemed  
the original cold fish. He never smiled, never raised his temper, scarcely  
seemed to breathe. She'd teased him, taunted him, and finally ignored him as  
just another one of her father's lackeys. She'd been far more interested in  
going out, having fun, tearing through her life from one thrill to the next.

David had been one of those "thrills." He'd been working for her father then,  
moving his way up the corporate ladder like a fire. She'd been a torch of her  
own, consuming, and then being consumed by him. She knew he'd dated her  
because she was Halcyon Renard's daughter. He likewise knew she'd dated  
him because it irritated the hell out of her father, who strongly disapproved of  
his employee's methods. They'd been partners in slowly driving the old man  
against a wall; that they had become lovers along the way was merely a side  
benefit of their other interactions. When the ultimatum had come, when her  
father had finally put his foot down, so to speak, they'd been prepared.

They'd been ready for months; when David walked out of the room, she'd  
gone with him. So had half the people attending the meeting, including the  
young, rather bland assistant, whom David had been wooing for months.  
Sevarius hadn't been in attendance, but his resignation had been tendered by  
five o'clock that evening. All told, sixty-three of Cyberbiotics' finest, ranging  
from Owen and Anton to two aspiring executives in the mailroom, jumped  
ship with David to become the backbone of Xanatos Enterprises.

And still she'd ignored Owen.

When she'd moved into the castle, she was forced to deal with him on a daily  
basis. Owen was never less than courteous to her, but she always had the  
feeling she was intruding somehow on what he'd considered his private  
domain, more so after she and David married. Enforced company meant she  
picked up on little things about him that annoyed her: his fastidious habits, his  
almost unnoticeable but ever-present air of superiority. After a time, they'd  
adjusted to one another, grown into each other.

When Oberon had come for Alexander, Owen had turned tail and run scared,  
and she was just coming to realize how much it had cost him to come back,  
stand his ground for them. He'd given them a chance, at what now appeared  
to be the price of his own life. This business about his brother had shown her  
places inside of him she'd never dreamed possible when she'd first met him,  
and introduced her to a new kind of relationship with him. He had gone from  
being a barely-registered presence in her life, to a rival, to a friend, and  
finally, to her own unknown stepbrother.

And she was going to lose him.

_It is time,_ said her mother's voice, as clear in her mind as if she'd been  
there.

Puck stood at attention. He'd taken a cloak from the room's closet and  
fastened it about his shoulders. It was forest green, and looked softer than  
lambs' wool, and gave his typically garish garb a hint of elegance.

"Are you ready?" she asked him.

"As I'll ever be."

The passageway hadn't changed in the past hour. They turned down another  
empty hallway, which ended in two wood and gold-trimmed doors, standing  
two storeys tall. As they approached them, the doors opened of their own  
accord, revealing the main hall of the High Court of Avalon.

It was big. Damned big. Trust her stepfather to build something so  
impressive one would be awed long before reaching even the middle of the  
room, much less the throne itself. The walls hung with crimson bunting, and  
torches beyond number. The ceiling stretched high above them, and had a  
design on it that might have been the stonework, and might have been a  
painting by an ambitious pixie or three thousand. A balcony wove its way  
around all but the front, teeming with spectators, and oh what spectators they  
were.

If the beings who had watched them on their path up from the beach had been  
strange, the ones standing and sitting to either side of them and watching from  
above were beyond Fox's powers of description. Again she was confronted  
by creatures she had thought could only exist in mythology or nightmare, and  
as for some of them, she still wasn't sure they _didn't_. Some watched in  
eerie silence, but others whispered amongst themselves, pointing with arms  
and claws in their direction. She saw gargoyle faces among them, and was  
actually relieved to find that much familiarity in the otherwise alien assembly.  
On her way there, she'd thought in her cocky way that she had a prayer of  
controlling these people; now she was uncomfortably certain they knew a hell  
of a lot more about control than she would ever learn.

She felt something. She looked at Puck, the only truly known and loved face  
in the vast room. Maybe unconsciously, they had moved together, their hands  
touching. He turned his head to her, and she saw the fear and determination  
on his face.

"Thank you," he mouthed at her.

"Any time," she whispered back.

Like a child might, he slid his hand in hers and wrapped their fingers together.  
His light pulse raced against her palm. She gave her brother's hand a squeeze,  
and together they traversed the distance from the door to the throne.

The Tricksters had positioned themselves in the front of the rest of the crowd.  
The spider was nowhere to be seen, but the others were there, and had been  
joined by two others: a dark-skinned, hairless humanoid with darting eyes,  
whose presence surprised her, then made her wonder at her own surprise; and  
a pale humanoid woman, with long black hair and sad quicksilver eyes. Fox  
wondered if she'd been the one she'd heard earlier with Puck, especially from  
the way the woman watched him as they passed. For his part, Puck didn't  
even glance their way, keeping his eyes straight in front of him. Whether it  
was because he was focusing on the task to come, or because seeing what he  
had to lose might drive him insane, Fox would never know.

They reached the dais holding the throne and stopped.

For all the ostentation of the rest of the palace, Fox had been expecting a little  
more. Oberon's throne was hardly grander than an ornate chair, and her  
mother's even less so. They weren't plain, certainly, but she had thought  
they'd at least have gone with gold and velvet. She and David owned  
armchairs that were lovelier, and certainly would be more comfortable.

Then she met eyes with her stepfather. As if blinded before, she saw a  
nimbus of power surrounding him like a rainbow vision. Her mother, in her  
fay form, radiated light in even more colors than those for which Fox had  
names.

She felt her body go numb with awe.

Who needed a fancy throne when one already had a walking aura of  
invincibility? Fox was suddenly very afraid, not just for her life, but for what  
she was coming to know as her own soul.

Puck squeezed her hand, the way she'd touched his at the other end of the  
room, sending support through the contact. Without words, without even  
thought, he let her see through the mystique, until the light faded, and they  
were faced only by their parents once more.

When her eyes were clear, she noticed the Three standing beside Oberon,  
wearing matched looks of arrogance. They'd seen her quail before the  
splendor of their Lord and Lady, and they laughed at her mortal weakness.  
_Bitches._

Puck removed his hand, and then made a deep, courtly bow before the King  
and Queen, indicating Fox should do the same. She did, wondering if she  
should have curtseyed instead, then wondering if she even remembered to  
curtsey properly.

"Rise." Oberon's voice was smooth, telling her he was in his throne room, in  
his palace, on his island. At that moment, he was in supreme control of their  
lives, and he knew it.

"My Lord," said Puck, "we have come before you with most serious charges."

"We know why you are here, boy. We have yet to decide if we will allow you  
to present your 'charges' as you say and then kill you, or spare ourselves the  
trouble of listening to your prattle and strike you down now. Convince us we  
should let you live."

"My Lord?"

"Beg for your life, Puck. You were so eager to do it before, when we first  
pronounced your banishment. Now," Oberon leaned forward, his smile  
showing sharp teeth, "you may do so again."

Puck closed his eyes. He sank to his knees, eyes still shut, clasped his hands  
before him, and whispered, "Please my Lord, spare my life."

"We didn't hear you. Speak louder."

"Please, my Lord!" Puck said, loud enough that the words echoed in the hall  
as little reminders of his humiliation, should he happen to forget. "Spare me  
long enough to tell what I need to say!"

"Again."

Fox's nails broke skin. _You bastard,_ she thought at Oberon, not caring  
if he and every fay in the room heard her. _You fucking bastard._

"My Lord! Please, my Lord!"

This was going to stop. Now. She gave her muscles the command to move.  
They refused. Her face turned towards her mother on its own volition, and in  
her mind she heard the once-loved voice speak:

_Not yet, child._

"Please what?"

"You son of a _bitch_."

Fox felt her control return to her body, but she hadn't been the one to speak.  
The words had been audible to everyone in the room, but had not been  
shouted. She turned to see who had dared break the silence.

The dark-haired woman had come forward, her grey eyes blazing in fury.  
"Are you so afraid of what he has to say?"

Mother stood. "Be still, girl," said she, in a tone as dangerous as the woman's  
had been.

The other ignored her. "Are you so spineless that you need to shame the Puck  
to build up your own sorry sense of self-importance?"

Mother said, "Raven, restrain your sister."

Raven came forward and took her arm. After a moment, Coyote took the  
other. She pulled away from them both, her anger fully directed on the king.  
"You make me sick."

_Oh boy._ Oberon turned his head towards her, deigning to look in her  
direction. Then he rolled his eyes and focused his attention back on his game.  
He could just as well have slapped her. She snarled, surely about to do  
something very very stupid.

"Rowan. Don't."

Puck's voice was quiet, and yet it carried more than his declarations had a  
minute before. The woman stopped instantly. He remained on his knees,  
humbled before the king, his eyes never leaving the floor.

"They're just words. They don't matter."

Fox saw his face as he spoke, and knew both gladness and grief. He meant it.  
As demeaning as it might be to beg, Puck himself was not demeaned. He had  
withdrawn into a place Oberon could not go, and therefore could never hurt  
him. He could speak the words, but it was obvious to all he would never  
mean them. And so she grieved, for Oberon must see that as well, and would  
kill him for it.

The woman, Rowan, also saw it. Tears filled her pretty eyes, and without  
another word, she dashed out of the hall and was gone.

Puck did not watch her go. Instead, he raised his head to meet Oberon's dark  
scowl, at either the outburst, or the fact that it had spoiled his fun. Whatever  
had displeased him most, he was no longer in a good mood, and looked to  
take it out on the little form before him. Everything they'd done, everything  
they'd planned, all for nothing.

"State. Your. Case."

For the second time since entering the room, Fox went numb, this time with  
the shock of hearing good news. Oberon would hear them out. She saw the  
same confused joy on Puck's face, to be quickly replaced with a more somber  
expression as he scrambled to his feet.

"My Lord," he said, his voice strong, confident, "We bring before you the  
most serious of charges against your heirs, Luna, Selena and Phoebe." There  
was a low murmuring from the assembly; it seemed not everyone knew what  
was to come.

Oberon raised a white eyebrow. "Continue."

"We hold the Three accountable for the unlawful murder of one of our own  
kind."

The murmurs grew in volume. The Three remained in their position by their  
father, unaffected by the news.

"Strong words," said the king. "And meaningless at that, but as you said, they  
are just words." He emitted ice cubes with every breath.

"I intend to prove them meaningful, Lord."

"How can you do that?" He gestured. "All my good children returned to  
Avalon with the Gathering. Only you denied our call, and you stand before us  
now. No one has died, and therefore, your words mean nothing."

"My Lord, the one I speak of died before your call."

"Non sequitur. Again, no one is missing."

"Ian is."

"Who?"

Puck licked his lips. "Ian. Your son, my Lord."

"I have no son named Ian."  
"You did. A thousand years ago, you brought a babe to this island, your very  
image. He was given to my care while you and your Lady argued over his  
future, and I was the one who took him back to the World when you bade."  
Now they were in dangerous territory. Oberon could dismiss them simply by  
choosing not to acknowledge the truth of Puck's statement.

"I recall the child," said her mother, before Oberon could deny the memory.  
If he did so now, he would appear weak, senile.

"As do we," he said, albeit reluctantly.

_Thanks, Mom._

Puck continued. "I disobeyed orders, my Lord. You directed me to return  
him to his mother. I did not. She had died by her own hand in the interim. I  
knew I could not bring him back here, lest he be killed, and I could not stay  
there with him. I left him with a childless couple, and paid them enough not  
to ask questions about his origins. That was the last I ever saw him."

"We fail to see how this has any relevance."

"You shall, Lord. You see, after you banished us to the World, you asked me  
to perform a few last tasks for you. When I finished, I thought to track down  
the child, teach him a few tricks, perhaps keep him as a companion. I went to  
the village where I'd left him. The woman had died, but the husband still  
lived, and for a modest fee, he told me I might find Ian apprenticed to a  
wizard at court in a castle not far from there. I went to the castle, but found it  
abandoned. I was told everyone had fled some time before to the court of  
King Kenneth." There were again sounds from the audience, this time  
distinctly gargoyle sounds. The Eggs were beginning to catch onto what was  
happening.

"When I reached my destination, I discovered King Kenneth had been  
murdered, and his throne usurped by a man named Constantine, who didn't  
_like_ questions. He was in a terrible mood. It seemed his intended  
bride had vanished without a trace two nights before, with a very peculiar  
entourage. And there my search ended, for none knew what had become of  
the small band and their cargo."

Oberon shifted in his seat, almost unnoticeably.

Puck said, "I request that Gabriel come forward." Oberon nodded approval.

A young male gargoyle, bearing a distinct resemblance to Coldstone, glided  
down from the balcony and sketched a bow. "I am here."

"Gabriel, will you please relate for us the story of your arrival on Avalon?"

He nodded, and told the same story Angela had once told, with almost the  
same words. In her mind, Fox saw the young gargoyles as children, begging  
their foster parents for the story over and over, like their own private fairy  
tale. It was probably the same way gargoyle history had always transferred  
from one generation to the next, stories given to the hatchlings, to learn and  
relearn by rote and pass along themselves.

"They screeched and flapped their wings, until the Magus swept them away  
with the boat paddle. They flew off, still screeching." The king listened  
mutely, while many in the audience snickered. The Three maintained their  
indifferent air, though their patience thinned with every word. Gabriel ended  
the story the way Angela had, with Mary and Finella sailing off into the mists.

"Thank you, Gabriel," said Puck. "My Lord, I would like to let the record  
show that Ian safely guided his charges to Avalon, where they still live today  
as Your Majesty's honor guard."

"You may so indicate. It does not appear to matter. The boy still lived after  
the attack, unless you claim some injury he suffered because of it led to his  
death."

"No, my Lord. As you know, because the Three failed in their task, the Island  
did not allow them to return. Three caretakers were replaced by three more,  
and as Avalon did recognize one of the newcomers to be its own, all was  
well."

"We can accept this."

"The Three did not. We charge that they plotted with the Archmage, to  
deliver retribution for the disgrace they'd suffered for their own arrogance.  
They used a gargoyle woman and a human man sorely, and got 'round the  
edict to not interfere with mortals by making the pair immortal. They  
collected the Eye of Odin, the Phoenix Gate, and the Grimorum Arcanorum,  
gave them to the Archmage, thus making him powerful enough to do the  
unthinkable."

He paused, gaining everyone's attention in the room.

"To take Avalon by force."

There were shouts, echoes, calls for the Three. Oberon silenced them all with  
a gesture.

"There was a battle at sunset. Many of the gargoyles were wounded. The  
attackers stopped, some bit of mercy in them perhaps, and gave the people of  
the Island until daybreak to live. The Guardian went for help, and fortunately  
for him, landed in Manhattan. He brought back with him Goliath, Elisa Maza,  
and Bronx, with whom your Majesties are familiar. Elisa and Ian woke the  
Sleeping King. During the next attack, which was long before sunup, the  
Archmage died in battle with Goliath, and Ian died fighting the Three."

Puck stopped and took a deep breath.

"By Your Majesty's own decree, we may not kill of our own kind. I hereby  
charge that Luna, Selene and Phoebe did knowingly and willfully defy that  
law, and struck down their own brother in vengeance for their defeat so long  
ago."

Then he stood still, waiting.

Oberon turned to his daughters. "What have you to say about this?"

The blonde spoke. "Lord, it is true that we did battle with one of the mortals  
who had usurped our island home."

"Indeed," said the brunette, "in our desire to reclaim Avalon, we may have  
caused grievous damage to that one."

"However, we are appalled at the notion that we would knowingly kill one of  
our own."

"We would not accuse the Puck of lying."

"He has been under much strain, living among mortals so long without hope  
of regaining his home."

"That he would stoop to this level simply to return here, after having denied  
the Gathering, is but more evidence of his distress."

Puck growled at them. "Will you answer the charges or not?"

The brunette smiled cruelly at him. "We will answer."

"Yes, we may have caused the death of the Magus."

"But we submit that he was not of our kind, Lord, and therefore we have done  
no wrong." They folded their arms.

Fox blinked at them. "He was your brother. What do you _mean_ he  
wasn't your kind?"

Luna turned to Titania. "Your little one poses a pretty question, Mother."

"Perhaps you can answer it for her," said Phoebe.

"We stand by our statement," said Selene.

"Mother," she said, not sure if it was appropriate to call her so here, and not  
caring. "We just went through this. The Magus, Ian, whatever his name was,  
he was Oberon's son. That makes him one of your kind."

"Does it?" asked her mother.

"Perhaps it does, and perhaps it does not," said Oberon. He turned to his wife.  
"Our Queen, we will abide by your decision in this matter. Was Ian one of  
us?"

Titania sat back in her chair. "By virtue of blood alone? No. The boy was  
not fay by that criterion."

"What!" Fox couldn't believe her ears. Her mother had turned on them.  
"How can you say that?"

"Fox," said Puck warningly.

"Of course he was ... "

"Halfling, hold your tongue!" She'd never heard Puck shout before, and  
certainly never at her. She stared at him in amazement.

_Can you hear me?_ It was his voice inside her mind, but very distant,  
like a radio station barely in range.

_Yes._ She waited, wondering if he'd heard her. She tried again.  
_YES!_ Still nothing. She nodded very slightly.

_Do not cross your mother in this. If Ian is fay by blood, then so are you  
and the kid._ He did not need to add they would then be subject to the  
Gathering. She felt that in the cold pit growing in her stomach.

"I apologize," she said. "I spoke before thinking."

"You are forgiven this once," said her mother. "You are unaware of our  
ways."

Oberon said, "If the boy was mortal, the Three have not killed of our own.  
They have played too close to the edge of our law in dealing with mortals,  
perhaps, and for that they will be censured. If there will be nothing further ...  
"

"Blood flows where it will," said Puck. "Ian was one of us, and I am prepared  
to prove it."

"How?"

"For one thing, unlike Fox, Ian was a magic user. He transformed the Three  
to owls."

The brunette said, "If you will recall, he used a spell book."

"He could not have changed us without it."

"He could not even undo his spell on the gargoyles at Wyvern with its aid."

Oberon snapped his fingers. "Odin, come forward."

An older, bearded fay, dressed in a robe of stars and a horned helmet, came  
forward and bowed before the king. "Yes, my Lord."

"Before you recovered your Eye, who was the last owner?"

"The gargoyle Goliath, Lord. He used it to transform himself into a great  
warrior."

"Indeed. Could anyone use your Eye in this manner?"

"Not exactly the same, but yes. It was a talisman of transformation."

Yeah. Transformation. Fox _still_ had to shave her legs twice a day  
during the full moon because of that damned jewel.

"Puck," said Oberon, "will you also claim Goliath to be one of us? He did  
after all work magic." He was playing with him, and enjoying it.

"No, my Lord. Goliath is a gargoyle, no more and no less."

"Then unless you can prove Ian worked some spell without his book, you  
have no case."

"I can, my Lord. The second battle for the Island was fought on Avalon's soil,  
and the Archmage had all the talismans. Yet Ian still defeated the Three with  
magic. Surely only a Child could do so." Something that he said caught at  
her, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"Daughters?"

"Lord, we admit the presence of magic in our battle confused us."

"However, anyone in contact with the Island learns some form of it, for it is  
the lifeblood of this place."

"Even Your Majesty's honor guard dally with it from time to time."

"A trained mortal could certainly use the Island's magic."

Puck shot back, "Are you actually going to admit the three of you were  
defeated in magical battle by one half-trained human tapping off excess  
energy from Avalon? That's pathetic."

A few chuckles came from the front of the assembly.

"We were surprised," said Luna.

"By an old man? Who'd beaten you before?" Puck mocked.

Luna said, "We made certain it would not happen a third time."

"Were you that afraid of him?"

"We fear no mortal," said Selene, making a fist.

"You feared this one. Enough to make certain he would never interfere with  
you again. Why? Why kill him? If he was mortal, he would have died soon  
anyway!" Puck was shouting again.

"Not soon enough!" the Three said in unison.

"You knew the Gathering was coming, knew Oberon would return to the  
Island, and find you rousted from your watch by a half-human bastard." He  
advanced on them slowly. "You knew that Oberon would come, and he  
would see you had been weak. Defeated by a mortal? That would have been  
bad, but defeated by your halfling brother, who never even knew his own  
potential? That was worse, because Oberon would have known that was what  
happened, and he might very well have changed his mind about who would be  
the next ruler of Avalon. You feared that, and you killed Ian to make certain  
it would not come to pass."

"And if we did?" The arrogance was back. They did not back away from  
him. They stood their ground like three mountains, unmovable save by the  
hand of Time itself.

"So what if the halfling died?"

"By dying, he proved to be mortal."

"You have no case."

Puck stared at them, and dropped his head. Fox wasn't sure if it was in relief  
or defeat. Then he whispered, "You killed him. You killed your brother.  
And then you tried to kill me to hide it, but that doesn't matter anymore  
because I'm already dead."

He looked at Oberon. "My Lord, they have admitted to murdering Ian.  
Whether or not you hold them responsible, they have said it in front of the  
Court. I am satisfied." Then he closed his eyes.

A sigh went through the crowd. It didn't matter. They could never prove Ian  
had worked a spell on his own, and so he would never truly be considered a  
Child of Oberon. Their charges were worthless and it didn't matter to Puck,  
because he'd gotten them to admit it. His life was over, but his heart was free  
for the first time in a thousand years.

Fox wasn't sure if what she felt for him right now was love, but it was close  
enough.

"We have one question before meting out due sentence for having violated  
our banishment." The king's voice was a shade less brutal than it had been  
throughout this long night, a strange alteration. "Why did you wait so long to  
bring this to us?"

Fox had wondered that herself. Puck looked down, traced a pattern on this  
floor with his shoe.

"I wasn't going to wait. When I made up my mind to come back, I wanted to  
do it immediately, before I lost my nerve. Then we got company.

"Angela had told me enough of her youth that I could piece together the rest,  
about Ian, about the princess. I wanted to hate her, I think I _did_ hate  
her, for everything. How dare she be happy and alive, with my Ian barely into  
his grave! It wasn't fair! It wasn't right. I wondered what it must have been  
like for him, to have spent a thousand years watching her, loving her, and  
never being able to tell her. Can you even begin to imagine? I hated her for  
not seeing it, for spending those thousand years beside him and never  
realizing how much he loved her.

"When the two of them came to the castle, I was prepared. I wanted her to  
feel what I was feeling, to know what it was like. I wanted her to hurt, the  
way I was hurting, the way Ian must have been hurting.

"And while I plotted, I got to know her, not well, but more than could be  
gleaned from stories. Since I'd found out, I'd pictured her in my mind as a  
scheming, selfish little thing, her nose stuck right up in the air. What I saw  
was an old woman, who wasn't even certain what century it was anymore.  
When she was lucid, she was gentle, even charming. I could see how Ian  
might fall in love with her. And I began to see other things.

"She'd loved him, too. Maybe it wasn't the way he'd wished for, but she  
_had_ loved him, and I started to see how even that shred of kindness  
could be enough for him to love her further still, enough even for him to lay  
down his life for her sake. Were I to come forward with what I knew, it  
would have hurt her. I didn't want to hurt her any longer, not for what wasn't  
completely her fault. I was angry at her because she didn't set my mistake to  
rights and make it all better. I was the one who left him, I was the one who  
could have made a difference in his life when he needed someone there. It  
was my weakness that made him, and in many ways, mine that killed him, and  
she was feeling the pain from his death as much as I was, if not more.  
Hurting her further would have been like betraying Ian all over again.

"So I waited. She was dying by the day. I could wait to plead my case until  
she'd moved on to the next world. Maybe I should have come forward, even  
called Katharine and Tom as witnesses to this facade. If so, then the fault is  
again mine, for he has left this Isle of late, and she is beyond where even you  
can reach her."

Oberon listened to him in contemplative silence, and when he finished,  
inclined his head.

"We accept your reason. We had no quarrel with Princess Katharine. You  
did well by her to wait."

"I did what I thought best."

Fox said, "My Lord?" The words felt odd coming out of her mouth.

"Speak."

"Lord, as my mother said, I am unfamiliar with your ways. May I ask a  
question concerning your laws?"  
"You may ask."

"What does the law _say_ about the murder of your own? It was your  
decree, given after Baldur's death."

"We know when the order was given, girl. We decreed that no Child of  
Oberon shall cause the death or destruction of another Child of Oberon, under  
pain of their own demise."

"Your exact words?"

"We do not forget." He was getting impatient with her.

"I have a reason for asking. Surely, by definition, my sisters did break your  
law."

"We went over this already. Your Lady mother decided otherwise."

"I'm afraid she didn't." She paused. "My Lord."

_Daughter, tread lightly._

"My mother said blood alone does not make one a fairy. I have no qualms  
with that statement. I am referring instead to the words of your own decree.  
You said nothing about being fay. You said no child of yours shall cause the  
death of another child of yours."

"We meant the phrase to mean all our Children."

"But that's not what you said. You said 'Child of Oberon.' Ian may or may  
not have been fay, but by your own admission, he was your son. I assume you  
also claim to have fathered the Three, which would make them your children  
as well, no matter what their magical abilities. Therefore, they broke your  
law."

Oberon watched her. She stood her ground, not daring to breathe lest she start  
shaking.

"Indeed." He turned to the Three. "Luna, Selene, Phoebe, what have you to  
say about," he glanced at her again, "your sister's logic?"

"Our sister should not delve into matters not pertaining to her."

"She might find herself in over her head."

"That would be unfortunate."

For an immortal, he was looking pretty tired. "Just answer."

"Lord, surely you will not fall for this legal trickery."

"The little one is twisting your words to suit her own purposes, ignoring the  
meaning of the law."

"Odd," he replied. "You have done that more than enough yourselves, or have  
you already forgotten when our generous interpretation of our law has been in  
your favor?"

"Of course we have not forgotten your graciousness."

"We would simply point out that ... " Phoebe grasped for words.

Luna continued for her: "We mean that it would not be proper for ... " She too  
faltered.

"Very good," said Puck, admiration in his tone. "Use their game against  
them. They despise nothing more."

"Be still, Puck." Before they could speak, he also silenced his daughters.  
"And you as well. We must consider your punishment."

"What!" The Sisters wore matching expressions of disbelief. It was almost  
comical.

"Lord, you cannot seriously ... "

"Be silent or we will make you be silent!" His voice thundered through the  
hall. They settled into mute sullenness. "You did admit in front of the full  
Court your involvement in your brother's demise, and are by this admission  
guilty. We _will_ consider appropriate discipline," he said. "After all,  
we cannot go back on our own decrees, and the Puck and the Fox have  
provided a literal interpretation of those decrees.

"The Three will be held in their rooms until we determine what should be  
done with them." He snapped, and the Sisters disappeared from view,  
probably to their own chambers.

They'd won.  
She turned to Puck in joy, ready to embrace him, until she saw his face. He  
was smiling, but tears flowed from his eyes.

"Puck?"

"It's all right," he said shakily, and looked up at her in a strange brightness. "I  
didn't think we'd win. I was just now thinking that I'm going to hold onto this  
memory, even if I lose the rest. When I see Ian in the next go-round, I can tell  
him, we won. We won."

"Don't talk like that. We're on a roll here."

He tilted his head at her. "It's all right, Fox. I accepted the consequences  
when I chose to come back."

"I didn't. You had no right to lie to us." She wasn't going to lose him now,  
after they'd achieved their goal. It wasn't fair!

"You would have stopped me if I didn't. You and David were right all along.  
I needed to come home and I did. And the Three won't get away with killing  
the first person I ever gave a damn about other than myself. It's not a perfect  
ending, Fox. Sometimes you're lucky if you just break even."

"Come forward for sentencing, Puck." Puck hesitated, then quite abruptly  
threw his arms around her neck. She returned his embrace awkwardly, then  
warmly, denying the tears that threatened.

"I wish we could have been kids together," he said against her ear.

"Does the word Armageddon mean anything to you?" she responded.

He chortled, and then they broke apart. Slowly, he approached his father, and  
went down on one knee. "My Lord."

"Puck, you were banished from this isle for having denied the Gathering, and  
then standing against us in the dispute over our Queen's grandson. As was  
pointed out, we follow our decrees to the letter. By violating your  
banishment, your life is forfeit."

"I understand and accept." Her last remaining hope, that he might try some  
loophole, faded with his words. He _wanted_ to die, damn him.

"As always, we are not without mercy. We will not cause you undue  
suffering. You were ever a good servant, and trustworthy companion. Were  
it not for your imprudent choice to remain in the World after we called you  
home, you would be at our side even now."

The son of a bitch. He was offering a way out. All Puck had to do was recant  
his rash decision, say he was sorry, and Oberon would stay the execution. He  
had just lost one son. He didn't want to lose the other.

Then she looked at Puck again. There was a strength in him, a kind of will  
that had been subjugated all his life. Perhaps he had been raised since birth to  
serve, but whom he served was his own choice, maybe his only choice. He  
could go home, if he denied David and Fox for good, and thereby denied  
himself, what _he_ was inside of the bundled lies and half-truths making  
his existence. The fay who had begged for mercy on her bedroom floor the  
night Alex was born would have done so happily. This one had tasted life,  
real life, and just as fairy wine made the drinker desire no other beverage, the  
Puck could not give up the mortal life he had found, save but to give his life  
entirely.

Oberon read the same thing, in the line of his son's jaw, and the set of his  
shoulders. The king sagged, barely, aware of what he must do, telling the  
audience he did not do so by choice, but only because there was no other way.

"Puck, we find you guilty of treason against our person, and of disobeying our  
most sacred commands. We find you guilty of breaking your banishment, no  
matter the reason. The punishment is death. Have you any last words?"

Puck crossed his eyes in thought, then asked, "Can I go look up something  
really good and say that?"

"No."

"Then ... " Puck glanced at Fox. "Let's just get this over with."

In desperation, she looked to her mother, but there would be no quarter there.  
The woman had already retreated into herself.

Oberon raised his hand above Puck's head. Slowly, he brought it down  
towards him, and Fox knew without being told her friend would die the  
moment it touched his soft white hair. Puck closed his eyes. Fox tore her  
own away from him, unable to watch.

And saw the mists rolling in around her.

VVVVV


	3. Chapter 3

VVVVV  
Consequences Part Seven: Wind and Water (3/3)  
a Gargoyles story  
by Merlin Missy  
Copyright 2005  
PG-13  
VVVVV

"Mother!" Fox called, unable to see, frightened and young inside.

"It is all right, child," said her mother's tender voice from the obscuring  
darkness, and she took her hand.

"What happened? Where are we?" They stood apart from everything, and  
Fox had the feeling she was farther from David than she had ever been even  
in her dreams.

"A place the others will never see," Puck said. As they had when she'd first  
set foot on Avalon, the mists cleared from her eyes. She almost wished they  
hadn't.

They stood upon, among clouds, drifting in an unfelt breeze, bright without  
sun. Although she wasn't sure of it, Fox had the sense of being very high and  
very apart from what she'd ever known before. The assembly was gone, the  
hall itself a memory.

Puck floated calmly beside her.

"You're alive!" Her sudden joy was replaced by bewilderment and then  
suspicion. "Why? If you dare tell me this was all a dream I'll feed you piece  
by piece to Wolf."

"It wasn't a dream, Fox," said her mother. "It was quite real. Your sisters  
were found guilty of murdering their brother, and they will pay for it in due  
time."

"What about you?" She watched her friend, afraid. "Oberon was going to kill  
you. The law is the law, remember?"

Puck's gaze dropped to what would have been the ground. She made the  
mistake of following it, only to be overcome with vertigo. She looked back to  
his face.

"What didn't you tell me?"

"The law is the law," her mother said, "but even Oberon is open to a bit of  
creative bribery. I made him an offer he couldn't refuse."

"You should not have. It was not your place to make the bargain." His eyes  
were old, wounded.

Fox rounded on Puck. "You knew this would happen! You let me think you  
were going to die, when you knew you would be all right?"

"I told you I would be all right. Is it my fault you didn't believe me?" He  
_had_ said it would be fine, hadn't he?

"I don't understand," she said. She turned to her mother. "You made a deal  
with Oberon?" A nod. "What did you trade?"  
"I haven't much in the way of bargaining chips. I offered the one thing he  
wanted, more than anything else in the entire World."

Understanding hit her, knocked the wind from her gut.

"You're going to bear his son."

"Yes."

"Oh my god." If there had been a place to sit, she would have. Finding none,  
she put her head in her hands. "I thought. You promised you wouldn't. You  
said you couldn't."

"I should not. There is nothing I cannot do."

"You know what his destiny must be, Lady. Surely there is another way." He  
was pleading with her.

"There was none. Oberon created you to be his heir. I made him swear  
otherwise, that our heir should be of my own blood. With the Three no longer  
fit to rule, we have no other choice."

Puck said, "You had Alexander. Every sign points to him as the right one."

"The right one what?" asked Fox, bewildered.

"King, child," said Mother. "Puck means that Alexander is destined to  
become the next King of Avalon."

"Huh?"

"If Oberon doesn't have another heir, Alex is by default it," said Puck quickly.

"But if you have his baby ... "

Her mother said, " ... that child will instead be the heir."

"What aren't you telling me now?"

Mom said mockingly, "Aren't we suspicious?"

"After what you just pulled, yes, we are. Tell me."

Her mother looked at Puck, then back again. "There is nothing more to tell  
you now."  
"Yes, there is. You said you shouldn't have a son. Why?"

"My mother would have had Avalon be a matriarchy forever. She told me  
long ago, when Oberon and I wed, that were I to bear a son, he would be ... "

Puck, in a surprisingly good imitation of Dana Carvey, supplied: "Saaaaatan."

"She didn't say that, Puck. She said ... " She stopped. "It does not matter."

"You're mad, you know that?" Puck's voice held horror, and a tinge of  
respect.

"I fear I am saner now than I have been in all my years. The child will come,  
and there will be war, make no mistake of that."

Her heart fell. Puck would live, at a terrible cost.

"Mother ... "

"There will be war," she repeated, "but we decide who will win. As long as I  
spend my confinement on Avalon, your brother will be born approximately  
eighteen years from now, as the World goes. Oberon will make no move until  
then. You have this time to prepare."

"Prepare? For Armageddon?" She'd joked about it with Puck just minutes  
before.

"If that is what it comes to, yes. Remember, for every tyrant, there must be a  
hero to oppose him. You have the key to our salvation, or our destruction,  
waiting for you at home. Raise him well, help him gather his allies, teach him  
everything you know, and perhaps, when the war does come, the right king  
will emerge victorious."

She embraced Fox. "Good-bye, daughter. I promise to check in on you when  
I can."

"Good-bye, Mom." There was too much, both information and emotion. She  
didn't know how to react. She held her mother to her for a long moment, not  
wanting to let go. She closed her eyes, smelled the sweetness of her hair. She  
was five again. Fairies were just stories, and she was safe in her mother's  
arms.

She broke away, and tried not to look, as her mother placed her hand under  
Puck's chin affectionately. "Good-bye, child."

"Lady, reconsider. Please. I am more than willing to accept my mistakes.  
Don't do this."  
"It is already done. Be safe."

The mists gathered around Fox again, enfolding her in a less warm touch than  
her mother's arms had been. When she could see, she felt the comfort of solid  
ground beneath her feet. She turned wildly, and then saw Puck. He stared out  
into the dark water, where the fog was just kissing the lake. They were in  
Central Park. They were safe.

"Puck?"

"I was just wondering what they'd told the rest. I imagine they implied  
Oberon did kill me after all. None of the rest will be allowed out any time  
soon to disprove it. The lie will be safe until I do die."

She said, hesitatingly, "I'm sure Rowan won't believe it."

"Rowan will believe whatever she chooses. I'd like to think she won't buy it,  
but in a way, I hope she does." His eyes returned from the water, as his  
immortal face melted into the familiar one of Owen. "Let's go home."

VVVVV

From this end of the park to the castle, it was a long hike, but neither  
mentioned calling David. Fox needed this, the slow change from greenery to  
city, and thence to the Eyrie Building. Owen didn't speak to her, nor she to  
him. Surely they looked an odd sight: a couple who did not touch, walking  
through Central Park in the early evening hours.

The guard on duty at the door was all business as he shuffled them quickly  
inside. To his benefit, and his continued prospects of working for XE, he  
didn't say a word about their coming in through the main door, rather than the  
parking garage. _Smart man,_ Fox thought. _Must remember to give  
him a raise some time._

They went up.

The elevator doors deposited them on the main living level. No one came to  
greet them. _Odd._ The internal alerts would have notified someone of  
their presence, surely.

"Living room," Fox mouthed. Owen nodded. They made their way quietly  
towards the living room, and sure enough, the sounds of the television met her  
eager ears. Someone had popped in a Disney movie for Alex, "Hercules" by  
the sounds of it. Fox groaned instinctively; she didn't like that one much.

She poked her head into the room, Owen beside her. Hudson was in his  
reading chair. Elisa half-asleep on the couch in the crook of Goliath's arm.  
Brooklyn and Katana were sitting on the floor beside them, near enough to  
one another to touch, although they were obviously trying to keep from doing  
so. Lex was on the floor as well, playing cars with Alex and Tachi. David lay  
casually stretched out on the rug, his head leaning on one hand, his other hand  
moving a little blue Matchbox car. Angela and Broadway were nowhere to be  
seen, nor was Nashville.

Alex looked up from his toys into space. He turned his little head towards  
her, and his face lit up like a million candles.

"MOMMY!"

He leapt up, flew into her arms, and squeezed as hard as his little arms would  
go.

"Alex," she whispered, pressing her lips into his hair, his forehead, anywhere  
she could find a place on him to kiss. She wanted to squeeze him until the  
stuffings fell out, knew that wouldn't be a good idea.

David flowed to his feet, and in a moment, she was in his arms, still holding  
Alex against her tightly.

"It's all right," he said, to her or to himself, "it's all right."

After a while, she saw his eyes open again, settle on Owen. He nodded,  
slowly. Owen nodded back.

VVVVV

Fox wasn't at all tired, but Alex had had a very big day. As she continued  
relating the events of the trial, Owen tried to take her baby from her arms to  
put him to bed. She growled at him.

"Mine."

Owen drew back, then smiled in an un-Owenish fashion. "Yours."

"Story, Mommy?" Alex was already rubbing his eyes. She picked him up,  
cuddled him in her arms.

"Certainly. Meanwhile, Uncle Owen can continue telling everyone about his  
and Mommy's trip to see Nana."

"'Uncle?'" asked Brooklyn.  
"Uncle. And you be nice to him. Nobody picks on my brother but me, got  
it?"

Before anyone could react, she walked out of the room towards the nursery to  
put her baby to bed. She read "Green Eggs and Ham" to him, by his request,  
then played "Itsy Bitsy Spider" until his giggles woke him most of the way up  
again. Then he yawned, and she knew it was time for him to sleep.

"Good night, Alex," she said, tucking him in under the blankets in his crib.  
He'd be moving to a big boy bed soon.

"G'night, Mommy. Love you."

"I love you, too, sweetie." She turned off the light, knowing the nightlight  
was too dim for him to see her tears.

A hero, her mother had said. Alex had been destined to be the King, and now  
he would fight the King, or one of them anyway. How could her sweet little  
boy ever hope to defeat Oberon? He was just a baby.

_Gather his allies,_ her mother's voice nudged her memory.

She closed the door to the nursery, and headed slowly back towards the living  
room. Her son was going to survive. She would make sure of it. They  
needed to start planning now, as much as possible. He needed training, and  
he did need allies. He had the gargoyles, and through them many heroes who  
were walking the World again. These would be a good beginning.

She slipped into the room again, and sat down beside David, as Owen told the  
rest in his typically clipped tone how she'd pointed out the flaw in Oberon's  
decree. David smiled at her warmly, touching her hand as he did so. She  
leaned her head against his shoulder.

She needed to broach the subject of Jasmine with David. Fox was willing to  
bet the Sloanes would be more than happy to come to an arrangement. Hyena  
had always been good in a fight; her child could be trained. Also, and Fox  
understood this was just the tip of a glacier-sized iceberg, Jasmine was her  
responsibility; she'd created the situation in which the girl had been born. The  
same applied to Daniel Maza. Alex would need allies his own age, too.

_Tomorrow,_ she swore to herself.

Fox smiled, and snuggled closer to David. Home. She was home.

VVVVV

After a long time, Owen returned to his own chamber. It looked as it always  
did, neat, tidy, his few possessions in their proper places, the only difference  
at all being two weeks' worth of dust. A mortal's room. He sat on his bed.

He had seen so little during his homecoming, hardly a fraction of the sights  
he'd wanted to experience while he'd been there. By keeping him in his  
quarters, Oberon had denied him even that small joy. His room in the palace  
had also been as he'd left it, although he hadn't set foot there in a thousand  
years. Another thousand might go by before he saw the room again. He  
wondered if it would still be the same after all that.

The Three would be disciplined, possibly even banished as he was. He knew  
Oberon would not execute them; he loved his daughters and would find a  
loophole. His sisters would be punished for what they had done to his  
brother. Ian's spirit would rest easy. Owen's own life would be permitted to  
continue.

He thought on the unspeakable glow of new life surrounding and within his  
Queen, and wondered if these fragile victories would be worth the cost they  
had yet to pay.

He sensed the shimmer before he saw it. Beside him, on his pillow, a  
greenish shape appeared, solidified into a golden one. His flute!

Awkwardly, he reached to touch it with his good hand. As he made contact, a  
voice slid into his mind, just as he'd expected:

_It is always worth it, Child._

Another message came after the Queen's:

_Someday._

He saw quicksilver eyes before his own, and then both messages were gone.

She knew he lived.

He lifted the flute to his chest, then, knowing he would not be able to play it  
in this body, allowed himself to melt back into the one he'd worn most often  
during the previous three thousand years. Both hands flesh, he brought the  
pipe to his lips, and paused again.

_No. Not here._

VVVVV

Angela and Broadway landed on the castle parapet just before two am.  
They'd spent the early part of their evening, after getting back from Xanadu,  
down in the Labyrinth turning the eggs. Elisa's last letter from Matt said  
they'd be getting more from the Guatemalan clan in the near future, which  
would bring their clutch to over two dozen.

"I'll be in after a while," she told him suddenly, stopping at the bottom of the  
stairs.

Broadway looked perplexed, but nodded and said only, "Okay." She watched  
him walk off, already lost in thought as to what he was going to be cooking  
for them tonight. She almost changed her mind to go after him instead, but  
something else called her, whispering at her spirit.

Without knowing why, she headed towards the nursery. Alex would be well  
in bed by this point. She knew she should let him sleep.

It would be nearly a decade before the eggs hatched, a very long time to wait  
for her children. She played with Daniel, and the clones were like children to  
an extent, but part of her didn't want to wait. That part wanted her hatchling  
right then.

Angela and Broadway knew which egg was theirs, although Goliath and  
Hudson reminded them almost nightly that _all_ the eggs were theirs.  
Angela imagined they would come to see things differently when the eggs  
hatched.

Alexander was by no means a hatchling. He was human, mostly, and was  
growing far too fast to be a gargoyle. At the same time, he was one of them in  
a way his parents could never understand and never be. He'd learned to walk  
holding onto Bronx's stubby tail. He could fly, although it upset his parents to  
no end when he actually demonstrated this. Most of all, because he had been  
around gargoyles his entire life, he had absolutely no fear of them, and was  
perfectly content to sleep in her arms, or Lex's, or anyone else's that he knew  
and loved.

No, he wasn't a hatchling, but he would do for now.

She heard something strange outside his door, and paused to listen.

Music, light and airy, came from within, but very softly, as if the musician did  
not want to let anyone else know of its creation lest it be ruined by the  
hearing. She peeked inside the room.

Puck, looking alive and well, sat cross-legged in the air just beside Alex's  
crib, a gold whistle at his lips. The child's eyes were half-lidded, but a pretty  
smile was on his face as he listened. And the music itself ...

She had learned to sing at Princess Katharine's knee, as had all her rookery  
siblings. Compared to what echoed now from the instrument, their best  
harmonies had been the raucous cries of corbies over a kill. It touched her,  
moved her, carried her on the thinnest threads of melody to dash her into a  
spray of bright chorus. Music, like many other things, was best created by  
those who were willing to compose their works with their own blood. The  
blood in this song was the ichor flowing through fairy veins, more difficult to  
define or capture than a shadow.

She was dumb with wonder. As the melody continued, she began humming  
along with it unconsciously, knowing what the next marvelous turn of note  
would bring. With a warm echo in her stomach, she understood what she was  
hearing. It was the same song she'd tried to sing once to Alexander to get him  
back to sleep, that first night so very long ago. This was how it was meant to  
sound, as played by the being who'd written the music, and she felt almost  
ashamed for having dared to try singing it.

Puck played the piece differently from what she remembered, but that Angela  
expected. She had heard it only one or twice in her life, and that from  
someone who'd himself been an infant when he'd heard it.

Her rookery father had put nonsense words to the music, words she vaguely  
remembered. She knew the tune, had sung it to herself enough in the past to  
be relatively sure of the place a harmony would take in it.

In a low voice, she began to sing the words she knew, not in the melody itself  
but as a counterpoint to it. Puck turned in his perch, faltering for an instant.  
He saw her, seemed to consider her a very long time as he continued to play,  
and then gestured with his head: come over.

She did.

Together, the gargoyle and the child of Oberon performed their lullabye for a  
little boy who was both fay and human by nature and gargoyle by nurture, and  
was somehow more than the sum of all three, and this was exactly right.

The music continued.

VVVVV

Another late night, and there was no sign of the string of long nights ending  
soon. Diana looked over the expenditures report again. The IRS was  
performing an audit, and while she did have accountants to take care of these  
things, she hadn't founded this company to have someone else control her  
financial future.

The speaker buzzed. Poor Mark. If she had to work late, he had to work late.  
"Yes?"

"Ms. Mathers," he said in a strange voice. "There are some people here to see  
you."

"I'm a little busy right now." She glanced at the clock. It was past nine-thirty.  
"How did they get into the building?"

"It's, um," he said. "The partners."

_Oh._

"Send them in."

The door to her office opened, and sure enough, her partners entered silently,  
as they always did, and stood before her.

Once upon a time, Diana had been fresh out of school, and she'd had goals,  
and a dream. She wanted to start her own business, training and placing  
qualified managers and executives. It wasn't the invention of Post-It Notes,  
but her company would fill a needed niche in the burgeoning business climate  
of the mid-80's. But she had no capital.

They'd come to her one day, approached her with an offer she'd have been  
crazy to refuse. They would provide her with start-up capital as she needed,  
and more, they allowed her full run of the business. All they asked was that  
she allow them to take a small hand in things from time to time. They had  
directed her towards the Cyberbiotics account, and when Xanatos Enterprises  
hit the ground, run by one of her own trainees, they had suggested she follow.

Once in a while, they would come to see how the business was faring. They'd  
asked to meet with a few trainees. That Firley fellow, the one who had  
provided so much trouble later, they had seen him.

Diana knew little about the partners, surprisingly little, she would think on  
rare occasions before she somehow forgot. She knew that they were wealthy  
by birth. She suspected they had given her business a jolt as a kind of hobby,  
like a poorer family might keep a garden. In her darker nights, she wondered  
about Mafia connections, worse things, and those were the nights she would  
sit on her balcony, chain smoking until daybreak.

For the most part, the partners remained out of things, while Diana obediently  
paid out their modest dividends into the varied bank accounts they'd named.  
It was a good arrangement.

Now they stood before her, dressed in matching navy blue business suits,  
carrying matching black leather briefcases, their hair pulled into matching,  
neat buns. Smiling.

"Good evening, Diana," said the woman she knew as Phoebe de Avon.

"We trust you have been well," said her raven-haired sister.

The white-haired sister said, "We have found ourselves with time on our  
hands."

"Too much time," said Selene, a snarl touching her lips momentarily.

"So we have decided to make a change," said Phoebe.

"From now on, we are going to take a more active role in the business," said  
Luna.

Behind and above them, Diana could just see the logo of her company, their  
company: a crescent moon just above a sloping horizon. A strange feeling  
went up her spine as the triplets sat in three leather chairs before her.

Again, they smiled as one at her, and the strange feeling went away, replaced  
by a cottony numbness. "Of course," she said, and had anyone who knew her  
been in the room, they might have noticed how flat her voice had become, and  
the remarkable green in her eyes.

But no one ever did.

VVVVV  
Epilogue: 1999  
VVVVV

Elisa lifted the egg and studied it critically. It was a little off-shaped, but  
seemed to be thriving otherwise. She held the end of the stethoscope to it,  
heard the hatchling's heart beating strongly within the shell.

"That's very good," she said to it in a coddling voice. "You're growing fast,  
baby."

There was no answer, nor would there be for many years to come. She  
wondered sometimes how gargoyles managed the wait, knowing the egg that  
was conceived under some lustrous moon would not hatch for ten years.  
Maggie and Derek had barely lasted the nine months before Daniel.

Goliath rumbled something to the egg he was turning, and she covered her  
smile. They both looked pretty silly talking to eggs. Well, why not? People  
talked to duck eggs and turkey eggs before they hatched. Gargoyles were at  
least proven to be sentient. Broadway and Angela had been doing it for the  
past month; it was Golath and Elisa's turn for egg-duty. She didn't mind. It  
meant a little more time alone with Goliath, and the more she picked up and  
turned and chatted to each one, the more she felt like they _were_ her  
eggs, biological or no. She was clan, and the clan's way said that the children  
of the clan belonged to all. When they hatched, she would love them as if  
she'd laid every one herself. And perhaps that was the point.

She patted the shell affectionately one last time and moved on to the next one.  
This egg was larger than the others, much less speckled. 'Lilah's egg. Her  
grandchild. She stroked the shell, no longer feeling the urge to cry as she did  
so.

Funny, how things changed. The world had watched as a gargoyle died to  
save a group of human children, and that had been enough to alter everything.

Her child's face had been plastered across every newspaper in the country,  
courtesy of the Polaroids Maggie had reluctantly released. Even the hardest  
hearts were moved when faced with an image of 'Lilah holding her stuffed  
Grover. Elisa had given a single interview, arranged by Xanatos, in which she  
told the world a selective truth. No mention was made of her human origins.  
Instead, Elisa had been coached to play up what she knew, that 'Lilah was  
special in the educational sense of the word, and mentally no more than ten.

It was one thing to paste dark images of Goliath on posters, with frightening  
captions. It was quite another for people to see the child 'Lilah had been and  
see the truth of what their own ignorance had caused.

The tide was shifting. Castaway's gun had matched the bullets found in  
Thailog's corpse, which bought the charge of "unlawful discharge of a  
weapon" (killing a gargoyle was still legal, sadly) and meant they could open  
the case further. Quarrymen fingerprints had covered the minor explosive  
devices throughout the theatre. Castaway had gone directly from the hospital  
to jail. His trial, and that of the surviving members of his inner circle, was  
still dragging on, but in the public's eyes, the Quarrymen were guilty.

Suddenly, the hood and hammer carried the same stigma as a white sheet.  
There had been an outcry against the Quarrymen, and then the public's interest  
had shifted away again, leaving the gargoyles alone to their own ends.

The ripples sent out from New York were affecting clans in other parts of the  
world, too. Lex had set up and released an email address for other clans to  
contact theirs. While he had to wade through huge amounts of spam, hate  
mail, and marriage proposals, he'd already contacted five clans they didn't  
already know.

Gargoyles weren't accepted in society, not yet. Now they were simply  
ignored, the way "polite" people pretended to ignore the disabled, or people  
from other races. With some trepidation, Elisa had gone out to dinner with  
Goliath. While many people had stared, many more had affected not to, and  
when the waiter had come with their check, he'd automatically handed it to  
Goliath. To her, it was like a sign from heaven, that instead of facing down  
deep-rooted bias against other species, they were back with the old-fashioned  
notion that Goliath, as the male, was paying.

She wished Matt could have been there to see. He would have enjoyed the  
moment, probably cracked something like Goliath's having left his wallet in  
his other loincloth. No, Matt had to be off gallivanting around the world with  
King Arthur.

_Lucky twerp._

She smiled, and lifted the egg to turn it.

The shell crumbled beneath her fingers.

"Goliath!" He hurried to her side, as she fumblingly set it back down. "Oh  
my gosh. I think I broke it."

She looked up at him, scared to death. Damn damn damn, how could she be  
so careless? Hadn't she just been thinking these were her own children? If  
she'd hurt one of them ...

"It is not broken," he said. "It is hatching."

Hatching? "But it's too soon!"

Bits of shell kept coming away, falling to the ground. Elisa saw a hole,  
instinctively put her hand over it to keep the baby safe. She felt a sharp poke,  
and Goliath pulled her arm gingerly away.

"Let it come," he said, his own face unreadable. She feared, but she waited  
beside him, as the baby chipped away from inside with an egg tooth the size  
of a guitar pick.

Several minutes passed. Elisa listened for the sounds of other eggs trying to  
break open. She heard nothing but the continued exertions from the egg  
before her. When the top half of the egg was gone, Goliath reached in and  
freed the child.

The hatchling was still wet and gooey from the egg, skin a darker brown than  
Delilah, lighter than Thailog, with a tuft of coal-black hair atop its head rather  
than the white Elisa had expected. The delicate, chocolate wings folded  
around its body, until Goliath nudged them open. The baby stretched its  
wings, then gave its tail an experimental twitch. Elisa watched in amazement.

Goliath held out the hatchling to her. She wasn't sure she should take it, but  
then it squealed and her heart went to the poor thing. The "poor thing"  
immediately started nuzzling her chest, trying to latch onto her t-shirt.

"Watch it! Goliath, you didn't tell me you guys were mammals. Stop it,  
kiddo." She slipped her finger into its mouth, and it sucked hungrily at her.  
Now that it was still, she would guess it to be the equivalent of a three or four-  
month old human baby. She wondered if it would be considered cute for a  
gargoyle.

Elisa began counting fingers and toes. "Nine and nine." She glanced up at  
Goliath. His eyes, while not misty, had definitely attained a glisten. He was  
simply adorable when he did that. Her heart melted towards him even more.

"Hey kid," she said in a quiet voice, leaning back against her lover  
comfortably. "Welcome to the clan."

VVVVV  
The End  
VVVVV

A/N: It's finally done, yay. If you liked it, thank Kimberly. And hey, if you've read  
this far, let's keep the love going. Comment. You don't have to say you liked  
it. You don't have to say what did and didn't work for you. Just say hi. Just  
let me know you were here. It's been 170,000 words in the making; you can  
spend two more minutes to drop a hello.


End file.
